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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686242">You and Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell'>Hopetohell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hellraiser (Movies), Night Hunter (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Come Eating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, Softness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:41:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when they’ve been together for a while, there’s still plenty of room for more first times.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)/Mike (Hellraiser)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You and Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s just the two of them and it’s real nice to have this time to connect, to reassert the <em>you and me </em>of them. And the weather’s shit but that’s okay; outside the weather’s grey and gloomy but in here </p>
<p>In here</p>
<p>Walter lifts himself on one elbow to kiss Mike deep; his voice is rough and low and <em>sweetheart, will you fuck me? </em>And yeah,</p>
<p>
  <em>Yeah</em>
</p>
<p>Mike’s poleaxed for a minute, hadn’t even fathomed that this could be an option, but <em>fuck </em>is he ever interested. It’s all about connection, about finding a new way to share themselves with one another. </p>
<p>It’s all about the way Walter’s callused hand slides up Mike’s thigh; he strokes over a faint curved scar at the juncture of hip and thigh and </p>
<p><em>Jumped the fence at Mrs. Hanson’s place. She had strawberries in a planter on the porch. They were so sweet, warm from the sun.<br/>
</em><br/>
that hand finds its way up the lines and curves of muscle; Mike is trying not to move but cannot help it; his hips twitch in the direction of that hand and for his troubles he gets a chuff like a fucking tiger against his neck.<em> Almost. Almost. Give me a moment. </em></p>
<p>And when Walter says <em>it’s alright, you can move now </em>it’s with the tight strain of holding back, of keeping himself under control because this is Mike’s show; this is his sweet boy buried balls-deep; this is the first time Walter’s been fucked in a long, long time and he’d nearly forgotten what it’s like. </p>
<p>Mike’s nervous; his hands shake where he trails his fingers up Walter’s sides, and this won’t do. This won’t do at all. <em>You’re doing so well. Oh my gorgeous boy. Here. Help me sit. We’ll hold each other close for a little while. Like this, </em></p>
<p>
  <em>Yeah. It’s better</em>
</p>
<p>They’re pressed together belly to belly; Walter’s cock is trapped between them and he can’t help the gasp when he settles upright, thighs over Mike’s and pinned on that lovely thickness, barely able to move but it’s alright; they’re so close. Like this he can cup Mike’s face in his hands and look him in the eye; like this he can say <em>what I need I’ll ask for. And what I need right now is this, is you, inside me. Nerves are natural, but don’t think for a moment that you aren’t doing well,  because Michael. Dear one. You feel so. very. good.</em> </p>
<p>Each word is punctuated by a kiss; the last is half-gasped with the way Mike tests out a roll of his hips. It’s the barest movement but it shifts him deeper into Walter; </p>
<p>
  <em>Can— fuck. Can you feel it? This is as deep in me as you can get. </em>
</p>
<p>They are pressed together forehead to forehead, sharing breath, barely moving. Outside the rain begins to fall; it’s always fucking raining and today it’s perfect; the droplets on the window glass cast shards of grey light across their bodies. </p>
<p><em>Boss, I. </em>And whatever Mike was going to say is lost in the way Walter leans backward, bowing his spine til his shoulders are flat upon the bed; he says </p>
<p><em>hold my hips and move. </em>And Mike does. Still slow at first til he has the rhythm, then faster, harder, he thinks about a Daft Punk joke til Walter flicks his nail against a barbell and </p>
<p><em>Holy shit, do that again. I didn’t know— Jesus fuck, I didn’t know they’d feel like that.</em> So Walter does, and Mike snaps his hips reflexively and falls into a rhythm like a race to the finish, like <em>it’s good, so good, is this what you feel every time </em>and it’s not like fireworks or trains in tunnels or anything like that; it’s a creeping coiling heat inside his belly that moves in a line through his cock and deep inside of Walter; Mike’s curving his body with the effort of getting a hand on Walter’s cock.</p>
<p>And Walter matches Mike with a hand laid over his, stripping his cock together til it’s all too much and Mike’s so fucking proud and so relieved that he didn’t come first that he nearly misses his own orgasm in the thrill and satisfaction of watching Walter come apart. </p>
<p><em>Hey boss. </em>Breathless and sweaty. <em>Hey boss. I wanna. I wanna try something— can I? </em>And he pulls out slow and careful, slicked with lube and come, watching Walter start to close, pink and twitching. And there are Mike’s fingers dipping inside; he withdraws them in wonder at the evidence of what he’s done, and touches them slowly to his lips. </p>
<p><em>Michael. Fuck. </em>Walter’s eyes are wide and dark and even though he’s come his body’s trying so damn hard to go another round at just the sight of Mike like this. <em>It’s filthy and I love it. Go ahead. You know you can.</em><br/>
<br/>
Mikes tongue in Walter’s ass is a revelation; he’s all musk and salt and the bitter dregs of need; he murmurs something but it’s lost in the wet slide of his tongue, in the punched-out groan that Walter makes because Mike is taking him apart with wet enthusiasm like every drop he takes back into himself is some great secret he’s unlocked. </p>
<p><em>Fucking hell.</em> Looks like Walter’s got another in him after all; his cock is filling and he reaches to stroke himself with a spit-slick palm.<em> I’ll either sleep for a week or die from this. But Christ, keep going. Sweetheart, please. </em></p>
<p>And Mike’s never understood how it could be said that someone’s been <em>reduced </em>to begging; in his open need Walter is magnified, resplendent in the slick and sweating mess of him, commanding by the very fact of the control he cedes. And Mike wants to reach for his prose, to find the words that’ll sum up everything, but all he can say is a soft wet <em>fuck </em>breathed into Walter’s flesh. </p>
<p>And somehow Walter understands the unspoken everything behind it, the <em>you and me, </em>the <em>us, </em>the <em>all of this.</em> It digs its way into his flesh and carves a space that is and was and will be <em>love,</em> that exposes all his shining pieces for Mike to see, and in this breaking-open they are bound together closer than before. </p>
<p>And outside the rain is falling same as always, all the light gone soft and grey as Mike flows like water up to Walter’s mouth, to kiss him wet and open and to share his taste, his need, to close the circle. </p>
<p>
  <em>Boss?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes, sweetheart?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Thanks. And I—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I know. Me too. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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